Edmund Pevensie: Threshold
by TikiTyler9
Summary: As Edmund walks with Peter to the waiting sword of Miraz, his thoughts turn to his past, his People, and most importantly, his brother. From the duel to the epic battle, as seen thru Edmund's eyes . 1st part of a series, can be read seperately, see A/N
1. Taking the Sword

A/N: This is the first part in a series of short stories documenting the story of Prince Caspian through the eyes of each of the Pevensie siblings. Each Pevensie will tell the story of two events, and each event will be split into two chapters. This is chapter one of the first event seen through King Edmund's eyes.

I really hope you all enjoy this! It's the first fan fic I've ever posted, so I'm eager to hear your thoughts. I'd like to know whether I should continue writing and posting these :)

Of course, I own nothing. This all belongs to Disney, Walden Media, and of course, the wonderful mind of CS Lewis. Thanks!

STORY ONE: THRESHOLD

CHAPTER ONE: TAKING THE SWORD

AS SEEN THROUGH THE EYES OF KING EDMUND THE JUST

The Narnian air sweeping in through the entrance of Aslan's How greeted us as we approached the ramp. I swear, with every breath of that air I took I became more and more of the person I used to be, the King that I'd become long ago. Right now, the wind was fresh and crisp, but I knew that before the sun had set, it would be stifling with the smell of blood. I know the Narnians felt good about this honorable duel, but I knew better. This would not end honorably—trust me. I understood treachery.

As we stepped out of the How's cool shadow, I was immediately blinded by the sunlight. I couldn't see the crowd, but I could hear it. Their echoing cheers followed us as we ascended the ramp; I tilted my head slightly to hear them better—my People. Their shouts, roars, barks, and whistles rang through the early-autumn air. I would've been grinning like an idiot if my heart wasn't hammering in fear for the person beside me.

The first thing to reach my eyes through the glare of the daylight was the glint of Pete's helmet. His stern blue eyes were staring out from beneath the helmet's silver brow, engraved with oak leaves and reflecting our troops that gathered just above us. I couldn't believe how different he looked from the brother I'd seen at Miraz's castle. They were worlds apart—I was now standing beside the High King.

When we crowned the hill of the How, I was finally able to bore my gaze straight ahead, at the armored figure seated beneath the ruins. Behind him waited an entire legion of masked, savage Telmarines, baying for our blood. But I only looked at their King. He was watching my brother approach the way a hawk watches a rabbit. God, I hated him. I really did. There was only one person I hated more… and I'd already dealt with her.

But this time, it wasn't my fight. It was Peter's.

We came to a stop at the opposite end of the ruins, and Pete asked me for Rhindon, his sword. Then the funniest thing happened—I looked down at the sheathed weapon in my hands and actually started to chuckle. I was thinking back to all our years in Narnia, and the running gag I'd always pull on my brother. I hadn't gotten a gift from Father Christmas all those years ago, but I hadn't really minded until I saw Peter raise Rhindon up high atop his unicorn in the Battle of Beruna. In all fairness, I didn't deserve a gift, but that didn't stop me from constantly swiping my brother's pride and joy every chance I got for the next fifteen years.

He probably should be thanking me though. If it weren't for me, he would've lost Rhindon along with the rest of his royal attire the day we went back through the wardrobe. But before the hunt I'd stashed his sword in my room, placing one of my own in his sheath. When we never returned, someone must've found Rhindon in my hiding place—stashed beneath the pile of sweaters Mrs. Beaver knitted for me every Christmas. I wish I knew who'd found it… but whoever it was put it in our Treasure Room, where it waited for our return 1,300 years later….

Anyway, this was what I was thinking as Pete reached for his sword. I was chuckling at the idea of just taking his gift and running. Wouldn't _that_ throw everybody off…. Maybe the absurdity of it all would magically erase this inevitable bloodshed, and suddenly Pete and I would be two stupid boys again, tousling in our backyard in Finchley.

But no… this was where we belonged. Two Kings of Narnia, standing on the ruins of rebirth, and on the threshold of slaughter.

I let Peter have his sword.


	2. Aslan's Design

A/N: Part Two of this story is WAAAAY longer than Part One. I'm not sure why. I guess I just wanted to focus on that one small moment in Part One, that small second of thinking in Edmund's mind right before Peter began to duel. In this chapter, I wanted to go farther. There were more events I wanted to cover. Hopefully you won't mind the length. A few of you said the first part was a bit short anyway :) Hope you all enjoy. Thanks to all of you have read and reviewed. It's really encouraged me to continue writing. This is the end of this story, but since it is a series, there will be more chapters added to the other events I've already began and I will also start adding new events entirely to this series. Thanks again!

STORY ONE: THRESHOLD

CHAPTER TWO: ASLAN'S DESIGN

AS SEEN THROUGH THE EYES OF KING EDMUND THE JUST

I was sort of daydreaming as I stood there at the ruins, watching Pete and Miraz shatter the stillness with the clanks of their heavy swords. I was dreaming that I was standing on the rocky hillside of Beruna, and I was watching Jadis glide effortlessly through the battlefield. My heart was catching fire as I watched her-- wand clutched in her icy fist, stalking determinedly towards Peter. In my daydream, I didn't break free of Mr. Beaver's grip to go racing after her. In my dream my feet remained rooted to the earth, and I could only watch as the White Witch descended upon my brother.

I couldn't see Susan, but I knew she was behind me, watching all this from her place with the archers just above the entrance of the How. I had no idea how long I'd been standing there, waiting for someone to die. It felt like the sun should have set by now, but it hadn't. Wow, it wasn't even _close_. Peter's question kept ringing in my ears-- the one he'd asked during the brief interlude of this duel, the only time my mind had really been functioning.

_What do you think happens back home?_ He'd asked. _If you die here?_ I didn't say then what I'd been thinking, but I knew that I would never find out what happened. I knew that if my brother fell on this battlefield, then I would not stop fighting until I was dead. It was actually kind of comforting, knowing that we were in this together, that no matter what happened, I wouldn't be going back alone.

I saw it happen about half a second before it did. I'd dueled with Peter too many times. As soon as my brother crouched down and spun around, I knew he was going for Miraz's bandaged leg. The Telmarine King stumbled backward in blinding pain, gaping for air as Peter's armored fist hovered for another attack. Miraz raised his hand, pleading for a respite; Peter waited.

"Now's not the time for chivalry, Peter!" I called. I know it must have sounded wrong-- the Just King calling for an enemy's blood as he knelt helplessly on the floor. But I didn't care. I wanted him dead. I wanted Narnia free, and my brother safe. I wanted to avenge my People-- the ones that were ruthlessly slaughtered within Miraz's castle walls, and the ones that were killed when the Telmarines destroyed Cair Paravel... my home.

But Peter waited. The High King waited. The second he walked past Miraz, my worst fears were realized as the Telmarine fumbled for his sword, then turned around to make his kill.

"Watch out!" I screamed. It was like Jadis had taken that final step towards my brother. But Pete was good, and in the blink of an eye, the sword was jabbed beneath Miraz's gilded armor. I watched as the King dropped, and Peter raised his sword high, poised to remove Miraz's head from his heavy shoulders. But it wasn't _his_ sword, it belonged to Miraz; Rhindon lay on the stone at their feet. You won't believe this-- I almost shouted "use Rhindon!" I seriously had to stop the words in my throat. It was like I was yelling at a cricket player to use his favorite bat. The absurdity was over-whelming.

"What's the matter, boy?" Miraz was snarling. "Too cowardly to take a life?"

I didn't think I could have hated him any more, but that did it. My blood was boiling, pounding in my ears. I would have chopped the git's head off forty seconds ago. ...Sometimes I really think Aslan gave me the wrong name. Just. I wasn't just-- I was fed-up.

Peter lowered the sword. His next words would follow me always. "It's not mine to take," he growled. Of course, a second later I realized he was referring to Caspian, but I was thinking of Aslan. It may not have been what Peter _meant_, but I think it was what he _knew_. This was _His_ world-- He just gave us the crowns to rule it. This war was in _His_ hands-- we were just kids playing with swords.

That's really what I was thinking about when Peter came to stand beside me, and when Caspian plunged the sword into the small patch of earth at his uncle's knees. I was thinking about that talk I'd had with Aslan long ago, atop a hill on an early summer morning. It had been winter less than twenty-four hours ago. That hilltop was where my mind stayed, until Susan's arrow pushed the last breath from Miraz's body. His own General had killed him, and as Sopespian shouted "Treachery!" and pointed to the row of archers, I could see my sister's eyes darken from all the way down here.

I didn't even have time to relish Miraz's death, to look with satisfaction upon his corpse. A Telmarine's head went rolling as Pete's sword sliced through his neck, and I took care of the other one by running my weapon right into his side. Say what you will about the dwarfs-- but if you're wearing anything other than _their_ armor into battle, you may as well be dressed in a potato sack. Peter and I came to a halt at the threshold of the ruins. The Telmarine's catapults were hurling massive rocks through the air. They pounded violently into the earth, sending up clouds of dust so thick that I could hardly see my brother's face.

But I didn't need to.

"I'm proud of you, Pete," I shouted over the chaos.

He turned from watching the advancing Telmarine cavalry to look at me. As thick as the dust was, I could see the sunlight caught in his tears.

"You're a better King than I, Ed," he replied.

My chest felt about to burst. The ground beneath my feet was heaving with the fall of every boulder, shrapnel was showering down around me, and the Telmarine horses were drawing nearer. But it didn't matter-- at that moment there was just me, and Pete.

"Don't you forget it," I smiled. I swear I was almost laughing.

The muffled sound of Caspian's horn just below our feet brought both of us back to the present. My brother began to count, and already my mind began to wander again.

"One," Peter said firmly. _I was tasting Lucy's healing potion on my tongue. The blackness was dissolving, and the first thing I saw was Peter. He was crying._

"Two." _A crown of silver birch leaves was placed upon my head, and Aslan was smiling at me_.

"Three." _My first night at Cair Paravel. I was exhausted, but I stayed awake on my balcony until dawn, watching the rosy sun stretch its fingers over the treetops of my Western Wood._

"Four." _I was dueling with my brother at a royal tournament, trying to impress the ladies from Archenland. But Peter had his eye on one in particular, so I let him win. He thanked me years later._

"Five. GET READY!" And now I was standing here, right where I knew I'd be since the moment I walked from the How, to Miraz's waiting sword. I wasn't just fighting for the Narnians, or even just for my family. I was fighting for these memories.

I watched as the earth beneath the thundering hooves of the cavalry gave way, swallowing up the horses and soldiers in an earthquake of dirt, roots, and grass. I was itching to go, but I knew the plan, and I knew Peter would _kill_ me if I took off before it was complete. Susan's arrow led the way for a hundred others across the sky and into the disoriented Telmarines, then Caspian and our men exploded from the earth and surrounded the enemy.

My brother said knowingly, "You can go now."

My mind didn't wander then. It was clear and focused as I grabbed a fallen crossbow dropped by the guard I'd killed, then leaped nimbly onto the back of a riderless horse that had escaped the trap just ahead.

There's really little point in getting into too much detail after that. The horse, though non-Talking, felt familiar beneath me as we cantered into the fray. Though not an archer like Susan, my aim with the crossbow was true. The Telmarines attempting to climb from the pit would often look up at me briefly before I killed them. I didn't care. This whole journey had been so strange, and Narnia so different, that the familiarity of battle was refreshing.

I stayed in this deadly mind-frame until I heard Peter's voice over the roar of battle, telling us to return to the How. Our army began to retreat, but then I heard the boulder's whizzing overhead. An explosion of dust and stone erupted at the How's entrance, and in that moment I thought my older sister and brother were dead. I swear, I almost turned my horse around to plunge myself right into the enemy. But then the haze cleared, and I saw Trumpkin helping Susan onto the wreckage of the How. She was alive. Peter was watching her, but then he turned and began searching the battlefield frantically. I felt a small smile tugging at my lips. He was looking for me.

"Thanks, buddy," I whispered into my horses ear before vaulting off his back. Sometimes I forget that not _everything_ in Narnia can talk. But that's okay, I was happy to thank him anyway.

I sprinted to my brother's side and reached him at about the same time as my sister and Caspian. The way into the How was blocked, and the Telmarines began to close in around us, prepared to swallow our troops in the same way the earth had swallowed _theirs_.

It didn't matter. I was ready. I thought of the time I watched the Witch's army crown the slope of the Beruna landscape, and seeing Peter raise Rhindon into the air. I thought of the hope, the courage that gave me. Now I looked at my brother, tossing the crossbow to the ground, and unsheathing my sword. His eyes met mine. My message to him was unmistakable: _There's no where else in the world I'd rather be._

And we took off running.

My thoughts drifted to my parents, back in England and under the impression that we were on our way back to boarding school. They had no idea. No idea that Lucy was wandering an enchanted wilderness, guided only by her faith. No idea that the rest of us were charging to our deaths, with Peter in front of us, and our People right behind.

That was all right. I think my parents would have been proud, and I don't think Aslan Himself could have designed it any better...

end.

A/N: Well that's the end of that story. I really hope you all liked it! If you did, then I hope you enjoy the remaining stories and chapters in this series! I try my best to capture the characters as accurately as I can, and to stay true to both the visions of CS Lewis and Andrew Adamson. I'd love to hear your thoughts, and I truly hope you keep reading. This story is for my sister.

-- Connie


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